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About Caspaen

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  1. <p>/confetti</p>

  2. First, please forgive the obvious "old news" status of this topic, I haven't quite been up to date. LVL 30 MOUNTS?! What the hell? What's next, lvl 40 master professions? I guess I look on as anyone who had to do the job the old way and want everyone else to suffer as I did. *shakes head sadly* Blizzard is getting soft. Again, they should SUFFER! That is all.
  3. Caspaen


    A zeppelin cut through a cloud near the shores of Northrend late in the night. The vessel had cut its engines and was coasting on wind currents alone. Caspaen checked the straps of his pack once more and neared the rail. Mountains began to loom ahead of the air ship and snowy hills raced past below it. A goblin grinned at Caspaen and with one last glance at a chart gives him a thumbs up. They had approached the Howling Fjord from the South West. Flying over the Isle of Spears the zeppelin was able to avoid being seen from New Agamand. Nearing Lake Cauldros Caspaen made his jump. As always the first five seconds were in near panic. The feeling of the free fall sending his senses into disarray. Finally confident in his distance from the zeppelin Caspaen pulled the cord on his parachute cloak. The resistance was instant and comforting. Lights of small settlements dot the land while in the distance the looming form of Utgarde Keep is visible. With his descent slowed Caspaen began to prepare for his landing. The last hundred feet seemed short as the ground nearly reached up to him. His body curved slightly as he landed on the white wasteland. Caspaen dropped the cloak from his back and drew his bow. Quickly knocking an arrow he surveyed his surroundings. Snow was falling lightly on the landscape and few sounds filled the woods. A sudden movement to his right caught Caspaen's attention. Rounding with his arrow leading his eyes Caspaen relaxes as he finds a snowshoe rabbit. He swiftly packs his parachute cloak and puts on his white one. Much like his cloak all his armor had been painted or dyed white for this mission. Even his bow was wrapped in white cloth. Stealth was key to his duty in Northrend. To further the success of that he wore no mail armor. He had instead requisitioned armor made from the fur and hide of Winterspring yetis. Caspaen moved silently from tree to tree leaving an odd trail behind him. As a final act to avoid detection he had his boots enchanted to leave footprints of Furbolgs rather than his own...going in he opposite direction he was. His trek continued till he was close enough to see the coming and goings of Utgarde Keep. Dawn was fast approaching and already signs of life were showing in the Keep and the surrounding woods. Caspaen began to construct his hide sight near the tree line with the cloaking device he got from a shady dealer. Satisfied in its ability to shelter him from sight and block the elements Caspaen settled into it and focused his ornate spyglass on his objective. There was nothing but time and snow left now. Caspaen sighed lightly and began his reconnisance of the Vrykul.
  4. "I just don't understand," thought Caspaen. "Why would the Ranger General call for me by name?" It was a truely perplexing moment when an Aide of General Brightwing burst into Sun Rock Retreat calling for the Ranger Caspaen Dawntreader. Caspaen lay down his bow that he had been performing repairs on and approached the Aide. The Sin'Dorei was of average height, black hair, but had the all too family upturned nose of those that are out of the field and in the courts too long. Caspaen chuckled to himself as stopped infront of the other Blood Elf. "Dawntreader?" the Aide asked almost in a demanding tone. "I am Ranger Dawntreader," replied Caspaen in a flat tone. Immediately a scroll was shoved into his hands and the Aide turned on heel and left. No longer amused, but only confused, Caspaen opened the scroll and looked around. Quickly the other eyes that watched the transaction turned back to their own work. Ears were still perked waiting for a conclusion. Deciding to just ignore them Caspaen began to read. " 29th Day 3rd Moon From: Commanding Officer, Silvermoon Ranger Corps To: Ranger Caspaen Dawntreader ******4258 0321/0327/0311 SRC Sun Rock Retreat, the Stonetalon Mountains, Kalimdor, Azeroth 1. You are hereby involuntarily reactivated into the service of Silvermoon and the Kingdom of Quel'thalas. You are to report immediately to the Sunfury Spire, Silvermoon City, Quel'thalas. Report directly to the Ranger General Halduron Brightwing. 2. You are required to bring all gear with you upon your arrival for a mission of versatile nature. 3. If you fail to meet the above within 1 day you will be marked a deserter and prosecuted accordingly. Darinth Suncrown, by direction." Truely thrown off balance by such orders Caspaen stood stock still for a moment before it truely sank in. He began the practiced routine of drawing his gear out of the armory and doing his pre combat checks and pre combat inspections. Finally content with his supplies he went by the stables. He tossed the stable boy a silver coin and had his Warstrider, Hermes, brought out and saddled. He was headed for Silvermoon City. Caspaen was hard pressed to make the deadline on his own, but luckily he ran into a mage around Ratchet. With his trek completed he approached the Court of the Sun. "I just don't understand," thought Caspaen. "Why would the Ranger General call for me by name?" This simple question had ran through Caspaen's mind the entire trip, but standing before the towering Sunfury Spire there was little time left for questions. He walked up the long ramp into the Spire, passing the rows of stone faced Guardians. He entered and began to look for the Ranger General. Finding him to the side speaking with a Blood Knight of some rank Caspaen stood close enough to be waiting for him, but far enough away to not interrupt. The Blood Knight speaking with General Brightwing finally nodded and saluted. He left with a none too pleased look upon his face. The Generals eyes landed on Caspaen who came to attention and saluted. "Ranger Dawntreader reporting as ordered, Sir." A slight chuckle escaped the General. "Please Ranger, there is enough frill and starch around us, let us not add to it. Leave such behavior to the others." Caspaen was caught off guard by such a statement, but nonetheless obeyed. General Brightwing walked to a map of Azeroth on the wall and motioned Caspaen over. As he approached he saw an extensive map of the world. It contained many islands not on the standard maps. It even had a large continent to the North that could only be... "Northrend," the General said. "What do you know of it, Caspaen?" "A continent of snow and ice. Believed to hold ancient treasures. And Kingdom of that son of a pig farmers fat wife, Arthas." Another chuckle from the General. "Well put. This is your mission." Caspaen's head began to swim with thoughts of all the possibilites he thought of along the way. Deployment to Northeren was not among them. "You are to do a jump into Northrend deep in the Howling Fjord. It is your main objective to gather reconnisance on the Vrykul. They are a race of giants and are believed to be the primary threat against the Undercity's plans in Northrend. This is not a short mission, we need as much intel as can be gathered. You will be out in the cold of the Fjord for months. A stone will be given to you for sending reports, but other than that you are on your own. Steele yourself Caspaen, this is the culmination of your training." Caspaen was given the reporting stone and enough time to send a few letters. They could contain nothing of great information. A breach in security could cost his life. His correspondence completed he headed for his pick up site for insertion to Northrend. Caspaen only hoped he would return from this deployment safely.
  5. Caspaen enter Sivlermoon City late in the afternoon. His appearance seemed to offend the citizens around him. "Let them look on in dissapproval," he thought. He was covered from head to toe in dirt. Foliage was sticking out of bits of his armor. His bow was even wrapped in moss. Caspaen just returned from a reconnisance mission. Normally he would have cleaned up but his news was far too urgent to allow time for such things. Swiftly he made his way to the Court of the Sun to speak with the Ranger General's aides. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. Caspaen thought...no, it couldn't be. He swore it was...Xyria.
  6. *a sheep stumbles along the road with a sign tied to it. The sign reads...* On the 16th day of this month Melar Danashj besieged Aerie Peak. It's aim was to stiffle Alliance air forces and continental troop transportaion. Their mission was a success. In a classic pincer move the task force squeezed the town square and cleared the nearby bunker. With that complete they advanced up the mountain and confronted Falstad Wildhammer, the High Thane. When the first shot was fired the High Thane did call for help like a young boy to his mother. His body was thrown down into the town square from the steps. They paused for a few moments and ate a gryphon. The rest of the aviary steps was cleared and the now bloodied warriors moved into the keep. The guards were putting up a fine effort, but nothing could stop the mighty boot heel of Melar Danashj. Clearing the keep proved little challenge. The highlight was as they approached the bar. It was reported the bar keep, who sources say is the father of one Frothe Wildbeard, a Dwarf in the Ironforge Regiment; begged for mercy like a little girl and pissed himself. With Aerie Peak taken to it's knees a couple decided to take the attack one set further and defiled the Aviary in a personal way. When asked why this notice was to be put on a sheep Captain Dawntreader responded. "Why not let this message of death come to them on a sheep. They are infact sheeps to the slaughter we run."
  7. *leaflets fall from Wyvern Riders over Alliance lands* Let it be known that Melar Danashj did assault Sentinel Hill! MD forces approached from the south, burning barley crops along the way. Once they reached the weak town the Gryphon Master was spanked, then executed. Shortly following the entire work force of the Lumber Mill were slain. Captain Dawntreader was quoted saying, "Taking out the lumber materials of the Alliance war machine and destroying their brew crops will undoubtedly lower fighting capabilities and morale." After ground level slaughter came to a close the MD forces ascending the hill and cleared the tower. Their mission complete they made their advance back to Horde Territory. Glory to Melar Danashj! *a small illustration of a Gnome warlock diving off the steps of the tower and being hit by and arrow is shown at the bottom of the leaflet.*
  8. *A bulliten is posted on tavern walls in all Horde and Goblin towns.* Let it be known on the seventh day of this month Melar Danashj rode forth against the Alliance in it's home. Forces assembled in Hammerfall near 2300 hours. When grouped they advanced into the Wetlands and razed the docks of Menethil Harbor. Upon arrival of the ship to Auberdine they ventured onward. Many fell on the docks, more fell on the deck of the vessel. Upon reaching Auberdine they killed all on hand and captured the ship to Azuremyst Isle. Their landing, lead by Captain Caspaen Dawntreader and the Thorje Nasuj, met no resistance. MD units advanced along the coast and executed Admiral Odesyus, Alliance Naval Command; and the entire logging camp. The ships in harbor were set ablaze as the agressors rode on. The town of Azure Watch fell with light resistance as well. Most fled in terror before the blood-stained bootheel of these soldiers. Their attention next turned East to Amen Vale. MD met it's first challenge here, the guards of this small town. Once their appetite for blood slackened the moved North to Blood Watch. Blood Watch was scarcely populated. Melar Danashj had to settle for slaying the Hippogryph Master. Upon completion of this assault the force moved back to it's landing, passing the Exodar on the way and leaving a blood smeared message which read, "Next time we'll burn it to the ground." The highlight of the endeavour was a lone Human warlock that made a valliant, yet foolish, stand against the victorious Horde. A Night Elf rogue later joined, but was layed down next to the warlock swiftly. Captain Dawntreader issued this bulliten accompanied by this message, "The whole time we did lay waste to Alliance lands the alleged Honor Guard did not rear it's cowardly head. Melar Danashj spits on their spun tales of defense."
  9. ((I got the concept from a book I read, not the movie 300, just for the record. I also started RPing this in game before the movie came out))
  10. In the Castle few things stirred at a late hour. Owls could be heard taking to the hunt in the courtyard. Rodents were scurrying from the light of torches in the hallways. Caspaen lay in his bed, alone for once, tossing and turning as he dreamed. His wife was gone on some foolish errand as usual. Her kind nature and willingness to trust was in his opinion a grave fault. With cold air around him he seemed to spasm, his bodies only being able to move a bit as his memory regurgitated his past. "Get on your feet you worthless shit stains! Perhaps the Horde will make an appointment to put your heads on a pike!" The Drill Instructors were waking the Recruits for their morning formation. The moved up and down the lines in the barracks kicking the Recruits who were slower to rise. Caspaen stood at attention on line, eyes forward. The sun was beating down on the barracks through holes in the roof as it made it's ascent into the heavens. With all his will he tried to supress a yawn. Such an act was a sign of weakness in Spartan Training. His will failed him. Quickly a Drill Instructor by the name of Polyinekes move with swift purpose and hit Caspaen square in the jaw. "Try that again you filth, and I'll bury you," Polyinekes screamed point blank at Caspaen. To his credit he didn't not fall from the blow. He let the blood fall as it will and replied, "I am forever in your service, Lord!" This response was both expected and required. Polyinekes turned and moved down the rows of racks beating and berating those he saw fit. When he was finally satisfied he stopped in the center of the Barracks and addressed the Platoon. "Today! Today is a day that may serve as a last for some of you. Silvermoon, in all of it's wisdom has chosen you, who have completed all but your last year of training, to serve it in a mission. Do not think this will be some walk in the park. Nor should you think that my hand will be restrained if you fuck up. Endanger the Platoon and I will knock your dicks in the dirt! Do you get me?!" "We get you, Lord!" came the response in unison, it's voluime and intensity so loud the flimsy shingles wavered. "You will move out with a full combat load and form up on the docks of Theramore. From there we will sail across the Great Sea to Menethil Harbor. That is all you need know. Now get your shit on before I set fire to your slow moving hands and feet." "We understand and will obey, Lord!" the Recruits called out and as Polyinekes and the other Drill Instructors stepped outside the Barracks they moved to gather their packs. Caspaen turned and checked the straps of his gear, making sure everything was tight. He then adorned his armor, shouldered his pack, and picked up his spear and moved up and down the Barracks assuring that all the other Recruits were ready. He stumbled across one by the name of Orgadom Sunfeather who was having trouble. "Come on Orgadom, you shit should have already been preped," Caspaen said to him as he began helping reposition and secure Orgadom's pack. "I know, I know. I had watch and was just tired," Orgadom replied. Caspaen chuckled a bit. "We're all tired and we all had watch. Just don't screew us Orgadom, it would be a shame if we had to kick the shit out of you during the night." Orgadom gave a wry smile to mask a look of dissapointment in himself, he knew the statement to be a real possibility. He himself had been part of such a group when a Recruit had failed to polish his armor to standards. The result was the entire Platoon spending hours polishing their armor only to have to toss it in the mud and polish again. The process was repeated several times, well into the night, no breaks for chow given. When the atleast were turned to their racks the Squad Leaders, Guide, and a few Recruits; including Orgadom, descended upon him and beat him into unconsciousness. In the morning the Drill Instructors didn't blink twice over the Recruit's bruises and broken nose. Caspaen finsihed with Orgadom's gear and surveyed the Platoon. "Squad Leaders," he bellowed, "Get them outside and formed up to march!" The Squad Leaders turned and relayed Caspaen's order. As Guide he was the one Recruit ultimately held responsible for all the others. Becoming guide was no easy task and in fact one usually lost it the same day as they earned the honor. Throughout the years Caspaen had earned it and been posted from it seven times. Postings were caused by failure to act accordingly and get results from the Platoon. If one Recruit failed, they all failed. They also relieved Guides of responsibility with a flogging. One last bitter taste to dishonor. The Platoon formed up at attention, spears driven butt-spike first into the dirt in front of the Drill Instructors. Caspaen took his place at the front right corner of the formation, the Spartan Standard for his Platton in his hand, spear strapped to his back. Polyinekes and the Drill Instructors turned from their smokin' and jokin' to face the Platoon. "Move out," was all Polyinekes said. It was all he needed to. Each Recruit new what would happen if there was error or hesitation. It was more a fear of what would happen then it actually happening that kept them orderly. The Platoon stepped off for the coast, using a shallow reef to walk upon. As a standing order they split into two colums rather than four when they hit the beach. This was to provide both availibility to all Recruits to use their weapons if needed, those in the middle of four ranks would be attempting to stab over their commrades and possibly slaying them instead of the enemy, and to give an avenue for runners from the front or rear of the collums to reach the other end sending word. The gold lambda on scarlet of the Spartan Standard moved in the wind. It's shadow giving Caspaen a slight reprieve from the heat that was growing steadily. As they reached a peak of a mountain seperating the Barrnes from Dustwallow Marsh they could see the number of vessels anchored in the harbor below. The sheer scale of it was daunting. The moved down the mountain and onto the road leading into Theramore. As they approached the gates the order to form back into four collums was given and the ranks collapsed inward. While the Platoon marched through the streets of Theramore it's citizens looked on with awe. They had heard of these Spartans, but few had ever seen them. Several women tried to solicit the Recruits, but they stayed stone faced as was required. It had been some time since they had seen women, a long time indeed. One Recruit cracked and broke ranks to go partake of all the Gods deemed good. In a flash, and before the Recruit took his third step, he found himself on his back with a Drill Instructor's foot on his throat. "What are you doing you pig farmers bastard child?! Get the fuck back in formation or by the time you reach those women you'll have nothing to pleasure them with," the look on the Drill Instructor's face showed no sign of jest. Once release the Recruit quickly picked his spear back up and got back in his rank. He knew the real punishment would come later, when they were out of the public eye. All the Recruits thought of the scarred flesh on their backs from such mistakes, more and less severe. Among all the ships along the docks there was but one Sin'Dorei Transport. Standing off in the Bay two Sin'Dorei Destroyers could be seen. They were undoubtedly the escort for the Transport. Caspaen looked ahead at what would be his home for the next month or so. The conditions would be cramp, damp, and volatile. There would be bloodshed among the Platoon to be sure. A pounding came from the door of Caspaen's chambers. He awoke a bit lost as to where he was. "Fifteen minutes to sunrise, Sir!" came a voice of the Spartan Guard. Caspaen rubbed his eyes and got out of bed to get dressed. It was another day and training was long ago. As it was Caspaen found himself duty bound, never quite having a childhood. There was no remorse in this thought. His wasted youth made him the man he was.